


Field Complications

by nyagosstar



Series: Better With Two [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4923364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem is injured during a skirmish and has to adjust to the Chargers working without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field Complications

It’s not a bad fight, as fights go, but it falls apart quickly. Dalish’s bow snaps under a strike from one of the bandits. Rocky takes a blow to the head and a rabbit hole has Skinner on the ground instead of up and fighting. They go from easy and in control to fighting for their lives in three heartbeats. 

Krem swings his maul, taking out everything in his path as he tried to close the gap between his downed people. An arrow slips between the joints of his armor at his shoulder, but he doesn’t let it slow him down. He stands like a human shield between the Chargers who can’t fight and the rest of the battle while Grim and Badger take out the ranged bandits. The Chief sweeps up the rest of them. His shoulder is slick and aching by the time the last one is on the ground, but all of his people are alive.

He sends out the throat cutters and takes off his helm as the Chief approaches. He ignores the arrow just a little longer while he gives the Chief a rundown of what he knows. 

“Good job. We’ll have to run drills on field complications, but you did good. Go find Stitches.”

Krem takes the praise and heads off to the south of the fight. Stitches can use a blade just as well as anyone, but tends to stay out of all but the worst fighting. He can’t do anyone any good if he’s got to be stitched up.

He’s a dozen steps away from Stitches when the last bandit, wounded and waiting, launches himself from cover. Because Krem has his helmet off, because he’s a little light headed from battle and blood loss, because he’s distracted by the glare of the sun off the lake, Krem doesn’t get his maul up in time. It’s a big weapon meant to do serious damage, but it takes a few extra seconds to get it going and he’s only got it half-raised when the bandit’s knife connects with his neck.

Krem is sure he’s dead. Knife in the neck is the end of the line. He only wishes he could see Felix one more time. Stitches pulls the bandit off, dispatches him and then clamps his hand down on Krem’s neck. He’s saying something, but Krem can’t hear. His vision is narrowing down and down and down and then there’s nothing.

*

When he wakes, his neck is sore, his mouth is dry, and it’s dark. He’s not in a tent, but in a room. He doesn’t have his binder on, which he doesn’t love, but there’s a blanket pulled up to cover him, which is okay. 

“I have to say, I don’t much care for this side of the sick bed.”

Krem tracks the voice with his eyes because he can’t turn his head. “Felix?” His voice is wrecked, like he’s been shouting out drills for six hours straight.

“You’re in Skyhold. They brought you back this morning.” There’s a shift of fabric and then Felix’s face looms into view. He looks drawn and worried. “Your boss is out in the practice yard letting that warrior woman beat him with a stick.”

Aw, shit. “It was bad, then?”

“You took a knife to the neck, Krem.” Felix’s voice is shaking, his hands are shaking as he reaches down to trace the lines of Krem’s face. “It was very much not good.”

He remembers to knife coming at him, Stitches’ warm hand on his neck but not much else. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s probably best that way. Dalish and Stitches held you together until they could get you here. Two healers drained themselves dry to keep you alive.”

“Wonder if that comes out of our salary.” He goes for a smile, but Felix’s face just falls.

“Please don’t make light.” He leans forward and rests his forehead against Krem’s collarbone. It hurts, but he doesn’t want Felix to move. “You nearly died.”

Krem brings his hand up to run through Felix’s short hair. His scalp is smooth and warm under Krem’s fingers. “I’m sorry.” Is he supposed to apologize for almost dying? It seems the thing to do and Felix relaxes under his touch.

They’re quiet for a few moments and Krem thinks Felix has fallen asleep until he sits back. “I’m supposed to tell them when you’re awake. You have a lot of people who want to see you, but I wanted a little time to myself. Selfish, I suppose.”

He reaches out and grabs Felix’s hand before he can go. “I’m glad.” It still hurts to talk and he wonders if he’ll always sound like this, forced and rough. “I’m glad it was you I woke up to.”

*

It takes him ages to recover. He lost a lot of blood before Dalish and Stitches got him stable and the magic that the kept him alive and forced his body to recover took a lot out of him, too. He spends a lot of time sitting on the wall watching the Chargers train, pointing out weaknesses that aren’t readily apparent from ground level. 

The rest of the time he spends in Felix’s little work room, flipping through books and listening to Felix talk through his theories about math. It should be boring, but it’s honestly the best down time he’s ever had. Better even than the short break they took in Rivain three years ago when Krem was more drunk than sober and spent the entire time in the company of a lovely pirate.

Of course, just because he’s out of commission, doesn’t mean that the Chargers are. Her Worship sends the Chief and the boys out on a mission in the Fallow Mire that sounds damp and dangerous and he’s a giant ball of worry the entire time. He’s not there to protect them, he’s not there to make sure that Stitches sleeps instead of taking double watches, or that Dalish doesn’t pick fights with Bruiser for fun. No one will know to double up Grim’s bedroll and in the damp, his knee will lock up in a matter of days. The Chief is good at the big picture, about charging in and taking the heavy blows, but he’s let Krem deal with the small stuff for so long, Krem’s not sure the Chief knows how to do it anymore.

Krem and Felix are sharing at table with Dorian one evening in the Herald’s Rest when he asks Dorian, “How do you stand it?” Dorian and Bull often go out with the Inquisitor together, but not always.

Dorian leans back and affects an air of nonchalance. It’s only after a year of observation that Krem can tell he’s not as easy as he seems. “Bull is very good at taking care of himself. He’s made it this far, and through worse things that the Fallow Mire.” 

Krem knows that. He’s been right there with the Chief for a lot of them. That’s the problem. Krem’s used to having the Chief’s back and it’s unsettling that he’s not there to help. 

A light touch on his hand and Felix is lifting it from its place on the table to kiss Krem’s knuckles. “They’ll be all right.”

He wants to believe him. But there’s no chorus of mocking shouts from his boys at the display and Krem can’t help but feel a little hollow. “Yeah.”

“Well, the two of you are disgusting and that’s about all I can stomach for one evening.” Dorian stands, but Krem doesn’t miss the split second of longing on his face. “Felix, find me tomorrow when you’re not so affectionate and we can go over some notes. Krem,” he pauses and then shakes his head. “They’ll be fine. Stop crying into your ale. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

“I can’t believe the two of you are friends,” Krem says as Dorian walks away.

Felix shrugs. “He wasn’t quite so bitter when we were young. And there was no one funnier that I’d ever met.”

Krem tries to imagine the life Felix lived. The same country, the same time, but so, so different from his own childhood. “What a sad group of friends you must have had.”

He doesn’t take offense, he never takes offense and stands instead, holding out a hand. “Come. Let me distract you.”

Krem lets Felix lead him outside, their arms looped together for the closeness and also for Krem. He’s still a touch unsteady—usually as the day wears on. Felix’s breath is warm near his cheek and he nips at Krem’s ear. “I’ve had a package from Val Royeaux, a new glass phallus and I’d quite like you to fuck me.”

He can’t stop the moan that escapes him and he pulls Felix just a little faster up the stairs.

*

The Chargers return the next week, no worse for wear. Relief and disappointment wash through him in equal measure. It’s a curious feeling to the pleased to see them all back with no significant injuries and know that they don’t actually need him.

Felix finds him in the afternoon at the top of the mage tower. He likes to come here to think, sometimes. It’s quiet, though cold, and hardly anyone comes all the way to the roof. 

“Hello, handsome,” he says as Felix pulls himself onto the roof, out of breath, but smiling.

“You’re a hard man to find, when you put your mind to it.”

Krem apologizes with a kiss and wraps Felix in a loose hug, holding him close to rest between his legs. “I thought you’d be working all afternoon.”

“It’s hard to concentrate with all the noise going on outside my window. Your Chargers are not a quiet bunch when they practice.”

They aren’t his Chargers, though. He doesn’t say it and instead kisses Felix’s neck. “I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

Felix turns in his arms so they’re pressed chest to chest and he can kiss Krem properly. Krem is so distracted by Felix’s mouth that he doesn’t realize Felix has undone the laces to his trousers until he’s pulling them open and then down, baring him to the sunlight and cold wind.

He laughs, breathless. “What are you doing?”

Felix slides to his knees, looks up at Krem through his dark lashes. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He leans forward, nips at Krem’s hip just to see him jerk and then sucks his clit into his mouth.

Krem spreads his legs as far as he can in the confines of his trousers, and twists his fingers through Felix’s hair. Felix might be brilliant in the field of mathematics, but he is a genius with his tongue. With a singular focus he massages Krem, laving and sucking, until Krem is shaking and then coming, warmth flowing through his entire body.

Felix continues to lap at him until he is twitching and oversensitive. When he sits back on his heels, his lips and chin are shiny with slick and he’s smug in Krem’s pleasure. “Are you done feeling superfluous? Because all I’ve heard since the Chargers returned is how they hope you’re well enough for their next operation because nothing went right while they were on the road.”

His heart still pounding, Krem leans back against the wall. The sun feels so good on his face that he doesn’t mind the wind. Not one of the boys said they’d had a hard time on the road, but then, it wasn’t like them to complain about the things they couldn’t change. Maybe Felix is right and he should stop feeling sorry for himself.

Felix looks good kneeling at his feet, but it must be hurting him. Krem laces up his trousers and then helps Felix to his feet, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.” It’s the least he can do.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing the Chargers a lot recently and as much as I love them, Krem is still, hands down my favorite. He's such a great character. Then I realized I hadn't done anything with him and Felix for a while. 
> 
> These are the kinds of story lines I think about when I try to sleep at night.


End file.
